


Conviction

by Ophelia Coelridge (daemonluna)



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-06-24
Updated: 2000-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemonluna/pseuds/Ophelia%20Coelridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touga... persuades Saionji to duel for the Rose Bride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conviction

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between episode one and two.

By day, the kendo hall was a room like any other. A room with four walls, a floor, a ceiling, windows, a door. Mornings, it glowed warmly in the oblique slant of sunlight through the high windows. After classes, the light was muted and diffuse.

Tonight, it was full of darkness and sharp-edged shadows. Tonight, it was a prison.

Kyouichi Saionji had lost the duel. Lost the Rose Bride. Lost his honour. And now he was trapped. Student Council President Kiryuu Touga stood in the doorway and held him pinioned with no more than brilliant, blue, cruel eyes.

The polished wood of the floorboards gleamed palely. Touga gleamed paler. He was awash in the moonlight flooding through the open door. Bright hair fell as black as spilled ink around a face that seemed all sharp cheekbones and sensuous curve of lip and brow. White skin shone above the severe lines of his dark kendo gi.

“You lost to her,” he said conversationally. Saionji snarled and turned his head.

Bare feet stepped silently across the open floor.

Long fingers caught Saionji's chin deftly, and slowly, inexorably, turned it back. “And you lost the Rose Bride,” Touga continued.

“But.”

He leaned in closer.

“You.”

Closer.

“Know.”

Closer.

“That.” So close that the final word was breathed out against his lips in barely-audible whisper. Something unnamable lurked in his eyes. Something dark and malicious and oh so pleased.

By daylight they both knew Saionji would have protested. He would have raised his arm, raised his bokken to cleave the air with an audible swish, would have told them all in a clarion voice that rang like a bell, and everyone would have known that the Rose Bride belonged to him alone.

But it wasn't daylight.

Touga began to pace around him, the lean, graceful prowl of a hunting cat. A predator. Saionji shivered, a quick jolt that shuddered up his spine and under his skin. When Touga stopped just out of sight, Saionji could feel him, a line of heat against his back.

The bokken fell from Saionji's unresisting fingers and clattered noisily to the polished, wooden floor.

Touga’s fingers closed around his wrist like an iron bracelet. Saionji tensed, hands balling into fists. A rustle of cloth as Touga dropped to his knees. Slowly, joint by joint, he straightened each finger until Saionji’s hands hung loose by his side. Touga’s unbound hair slithered across one bare wrist, and soft lips brushed his palm. Saionji shivered again, a convulsive shudder that crept across his skin.

A breath of a kiss at the wrist, and Touga began to work his way up the bare skin of his forearm. A flicker of wetness at the crease of his elbow, tongue swiping the salt from his skin. Open kendo gi sliding down to leave chest, back, and arms bare, all flat planes and tensed limbs. Lips lingered with the heat of an exhaled breath on the tautly muscled sweep of his shoulder.

Touga reached the juncture of shoulder and neck, and stopped, tasting the exposed skin with an open mouth. One arm circled Saionji’s waist loosely, long fingers unerringly tracing the sharp-edged contours of his hipbone through the thin cotton. The other snaked up until his other hand slid up Saionji’s throat, catching at his chin and forcing his head back. Unrelenting fingers dug sharply into his jaw.

Saionji closed his eyes in what might have been an escape and might have been a surrender.

Tongue flickered over the corded tendons, and Touga bit down suddenly, catching the tensed muscle between his teeth. Hard enough to hurt, enough to mark him, but not enough to break the skin.

“You lost her,” Touga whispered hotly, lips tracing the words against his ear. “But then again, she never really was yours to begin with, was she?” The hand at his throat tightened. The hand on his hip dropped down lower.

A gasp.

A moan.

A shuddering intake of breath.

A cry.

Touga’s lips curved upwards in a triumphant smile. He pulled Saionji back against him, one arm a steel band across his shoulders, the other back around his waist. Saionji sagged in his grip like a marionette with the strings cut, each breath an open-mouthed gasp for air.

Touga traced the sweat-damped tendrils of hair plastered to his neck, and slowly slid around so they faced each other once again. Head tilted, foreheads meeting, he smiled again, and idly brushed a thumb up from the curve of his captive’s jaw, and over his parted lips.

Touga slowly pushed him to his knees. One hand slid around, up his neck, through the sweat-soaked tangle of hair, cupping the back of his head.

“Why don’t you...” Touga tilted Saionji’s head back until their eyes met. "...take her back?”

The other hand came to rest on Saionji’s shoulders, palm cupped possessively over the imprint of his teeth. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Saionji said nothing.


End file.
